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           Shedutifullychangedandbottle-fedthered-faced,redheadedmorseljustascustomdictatedsheshould,waitingforthecommencementofsomewonderful,surgingemotion.Butitnevercame;shefeltnodesiretosmotherthetinyfacewithkisses,orbitetheweefingers,ordoanyofthethousandsillythingsmotherslovedtodowithbabies.Itdidn’tfeellikeherbaby,anditdidn’twantorneedheranymorethanshedidit.It,it!Her,her!Shecouldn’tevenremembertocallither.

           LuddieandAnneneverdreamedMeggiedidnotadoreJustine,thatshefeltlessforJustinethanshehadforanyofhermother’syoungerbabies.WheneverJustinecriedMeggiewasrighttheretopickherup,croontoher,rockher,andneverwasababydrierormorecomfortable.ThestrangethingwasthatJustinedidn’tseemtowanttobepickeduporcroonedover;shequietedmuchfasterifshewasleftalone.

           Astimewentonsheimprovedinlooks.Herinfantskinlostitsredness,acquiredthatthinblue-veinedtransparencywhichgoessooftenwithredhair,andherlittlearmsandlegsfilledouttopleasingplumpness.ThehairbegantocurlandthickenandtoassumeforeverthesameviolentshadehergrandfatherPaddyhadowned.Everyonewaitedanxiouslytoseewhatcolorhereyeswouldturnouttobe,Luddiebettingonherfather’sblue,Anneonhermother’sgrey,Meggiewithoutanopinion.ButJustine’seyeswereverydefinitelyherown,andunnervingtosaytheleast.Atsixweekstheybegantochange,andbytheninthweekhadgainedtheirfinalcolorandform.